


Shore Thing, A

by gnomi



Category: The West Wing
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-08-25
Updated: 2005-08-25
Packaged: 2019-05-30 19:02:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15102986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gnomi/pseuds/gnomi
Summary: The guys go away to relax. Sequel toTest of Strength.





	Shore Thing, A

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Title: A Shore Thing  
Author: Nomi   
Archive: Sure, just tell me where  
Pairing: J/S  
Rating: NC-17  
Notes: So Amber wanted a stairway scene, and then she mentioned the beach and, well...I ran with it. But then I was writing closure for ToS...Also, I'm an inveterate punster. I used this title 'cause it grew on me, but please don't hate me. Past stories in this universe of mine can be found at http://world.std.com/~gnomi/stories.html .  
Warnings: Spoilers abound for what we've seen through "17 People".

**A Shore Thing by Nomi**

Over the pounding surf, I could hear the telltale sound of bare feet on beach sand. Someone was following me, and they were getting closer. Unsure of who was behind me, and not sure I wanted to know, I accelerated and prayed that I wouldn't trip over my own feet and make an idiot of myself. I jog daily, come rain or shine, so I'm in damn good shape, even after having been shot last summer. But I usually run on pavement, so I was less fleet of foot on the beach. And beach-jogging isn't something I'd usually do. But we'd come here to the shore, and I wanted to take advantage of the change of scenery, so I tried to pay some attention to my surroundings as I ran.

Spring on Maryland's Eastern Shore is beautiful, but it's too early for the majority of tourists. This is a good thing, because Sam and I had really needed to get away from everything and everyone. After the trauma of the past couple of weeks, between Sam's illness itself, the original stress that caused Sam to get sick and the resulting stress from waiting to find out what was wrong, Leo and Toby were more than happy to give us a weekend away. It was almost as if they knew something big was coming down the road and wanted to give us a chance to recharge mentally so that we'd be up for the upcoming onslaught. I had no idea if there _was_ something coming, but I appreciated their understanding our need to go away for the weekend.

So Sam and I took off for Wye Landing. Last time we came to the Maryland shore, we'd been under a different type of stress - we weren't sure the status of our relationship - and the time here had been one of healing and reconnecting. And wild monkey sex.

I hoped for much of the same with this trip.

I reached a rocky outcropping and paused. I was breathing a little hard, but nothing compared to when I first started running again after the shooting. I knew I was still being pursued, but I was too oxygen-starved to care anymore why I was being followed. I turned around to see Sam running up behind me, dressed in the smallest Speedo I'd ever seen.

"God, J, I thought you'd never stop." Sam was struggling to catch his breath. Sam's usual workout involves weight machines and barbells; running's not his thing, and I wasn't sure why he'd chosen now to start.

"I heard someone behind me, but since you usually resist all opportunities to jog with me, I figured..."

"Yeah, yeah...I know. But I'm taking a new look at everything and..."

He didn't have to finish the thought. After the scare of the past few weeks, we'd both been reevaluating how we currently live our lives and how we wanted to live the rest of our lives.

But that was too weighty a subject for this weekend. This was a weekend to forget everything outside our relationship and concentrate on us.

I planned to concentrate on how Sam looked in that tiny excuse for a bathing suit and how to get him out of it.

"Love?" I said.

"Yeah?"

"What're you wearing?" Good, innocent question, I thought.

"Well, with the weight loss, all of my regular bathing suits are too big on me. So I went digging through my boxes from college, and I found this - I _know_ I told you I was on the swimming and diving team at Princeton."

I gave close scrutiny to Sam's appearance. Gorgeous face, perfect nose, beautiful pouty lips...Slightly bony shoulders with really long arms attached, ending in wonderfully talented hands with amazingly dexterous fingers. Smooth chest and flat stomach tapering down to still-too-thin hips. Long legs - in my mind, I can feel them wrapped around my hips - and long feet. Even Sam's feet are sexy.

God, how I love this man.

I twirled my finger in the air. Sam understood and pivoted like some sort of bodybuilder on display, including the sexy ass wiggle. I looked at his back, his well-muscled legs, his ass...I could look at that ass of his all day...

Eventually, Sam turned back around, and I could tell the effect my inspection had on him - a nice thing about tight Speedos is that they hide nothing.

"J?" Sam said.

"Yeah?" I replied, still checking Sam out.

"What's all that about?"

"Just admiring the view, love." It also helps me to remember that he's well, that he's gonna be just fine, but I couldn't bring myself to tell him that right now.

"You _know_ what that does to me," Sam said, indicating the hard-on barely constrained within the hardly-an-excuse-for-a-bathing suit he was wearing.

"Yeah," I said with a grin.

"You gonna do something about that?"

"Maybe," I said, "depends on who gets back to the house first." And with that, I took off at a run. I could hear Sam chasing after me, but despite my handicaps of having to run on sand in sneakers and the lack-of-oxygen problem that will probably be with me for the rest of my life, I was managing to outpace Sam. Just as I reached the stairs leading back up to the beach house, I slowed down. I could tell Sam was coming right up behind me, so with a final burst of speed, I dashed up the stairs onto the deck of the house.

Sam was no more than five seconds behind me.

"No fair," he said between pants. "You had a head start!"

"It's like I always say - old age and cunning will outpace youth and ingenuity any day." He knows I'm somewhat self-conscious about the difference in our ages, mostly 'cause he's still young and gorgeous and I'm...not.

"But..."

"Yup...butt. Yours is mine." I reached out and squeezed one cheek of that to which I had just laid claim.

"We gonna do this outside?" Sam asked with a grin. It was nice to see his exhibitionist streak coming out again - he hadn't felt well for so long that certain aspects of Sam had been suppressed, but now that he was feeling better, they were apparently re-asserting themselves.

"No, love. You're all mine this weekend." Not that anyone was around to see, anyway. Also, it _was_ warmish out - or what I, as a native New Englander would consider warmish at about 75 degrees during the day - so cavorting outside wouldn't be out of the question, but I was afraid of Sam getting sick again.

I know, I worry too much...but Sam needs someone to look out for him.

I opened the sliding door off the porch and, keeping my hand on Sam's ass, I encouraged him to enter the house.

"You were dead to the world when I left," I said. "I didn't think you'd be up this early." It was barely 7:30, and I'd left Sam fast asleep, having worn him out last night with a thorough examination to make sure he was still recovering well. My methods were probably not AMA-approved, but they were most definitely Sam-approved.

"Well, I woke up and you were gone. I figured you'd gone to make breakfast, but when I couldn't find you, I decided to find out where you'd gone. The footprints leading down the beach let me know where you'd gone, so I decided to follow."

"And calling out to me never entered your mind?" I asked. "I would have stopped."

"I was having enough trouble breathing; talking was gonna be beyond me," Sam said.

"Regardless," I said, "I'm glad you're up. Why don't we go shower and then I'll make breakfast." Actually, if I had my way, breakfast was going to be a while off.

"OK," Sam said, walking out of the sunroom and heading toward the stairs. I walked behind him, again admiring the view.

Sam could tell I was watching; he wiggled his ass for effect as we walked into the hallway and toward the staircase. We started up, Sam enhancing the wiggle with each stair. As we climbed the stairs, Sam continued to tease me, pushing the edges of my control. On the fourth stair, I reached out and grabbed his hips.

"You're doing that to entice me, aren't you?" I asked.

"Doing what?" Sam responded, feigning innocence.

"That ass-wiggle thing. You don't walk that way naturally." I knew ways to make him walk that way, but I knew I hadn't employed them, and I assumed Sam hadn't, either.

"You gonna do something about it?" Sam asked.

"Hell, yeah," I said, pushing on Sam's hip until he'd turned around to face me. Sam was still hard, and the limits of the bathing suit were definitely being tested.

"You look uncomfortable in that," I cooed, tracing the outline of his cock with the tips of my fingers. I felt him jerk and strain against the fabric. "I bet I can soothe you." I reached down between his legs and cupped his balls, feeling their warmth through their scant covering. "Oh, yeah...I can feel just how much you need soothing."

Sam whimpered as I continued to stroke him with the lightest of touches.

"You can feel it...you know what's coming soon." As I spoke, I started easing the fabric down Sam's hips. As soon as I moved the fabric an inch or so, Sam's cock sprang free of its confinement. I finished shucking the tight suit down Sam's legs, leaving it in a puddle on the stairs.

Again I took a minute to inspect Sam's body and again I had him pivot to show me the rear view.

"Do I pass inspection?" Sam asked.

"Not sure...haven't done the taste test." I dragged my tongue down his chest, over his taut abdomen, across his hips, then, kneeling on the stair, I took his cock into my mouth. He tasted of salt and sweat and Sam. It was the most enticing flavor I could imagine.

I looked up to see Sam's eyes flutter closed. He tried to speak, but seemed too preoccupied to form a real sentence. "You...oh, God, Josh!...you never..."

"Mmm?" I asked around his cock. From the way it jerked in my mouth, I knew the vibrations had affected him.

"I didn't...oh...know...oh, fuck..." I reached up with my left hand and traced Sam's asshole, not entering but just teasing.

"Jo-o-sh!" Sam moaned again.

I leaned back and let Sam slide from my mouth. His still-hard cock glistened with my saliva.

"Wha..." Sam opened his eyes.

"C'mon, Sam. You need a shower...as do I." I stood up again and jogged up the remaining stairs.

Or, at least, I tried to. As soon as I got beyond Sam, he grabbed the back of my jogging shorts and yanked them down along with the boxers underneath.

Now he was the aggressor. He started to kiss my ass cheeks as he brought his hands around to clasp my cock, which had begun to react to Sam's stimulation. As he stroked me, he nipped my left ass cheek, then soothed the area with his tongue. He then repeated the maneuver on my right side. When I was hard and ready, Sam stopped.

"Turnabout's fair play, J," he said, urging me up the stairs with a pat on my now-slightly-tender butt. He chased me up the stairs and into the closest bathroom. I quickly removed my tank top, tossing it into the corner, as Sam ran the water in the shower. When he'd gotten the temperature he wanted, Sam pulled the curtain aside and gestured for me to go in first.

I climbed into the bathtub and grabbed the soap, lathering my hands as Sam climbed in after me. As the water sluiced over my back, I handed Sam the soap and let him work up his own lather. As if choreographed, we reached out to each other simultaneously, soaping each other's bodies. I paid special attention to my favorite parts of Sam's body as he concentrated on his favorite areas of my anatomy. We cleaned and caressed each other, reacquainting ourselves with all the tender spots, all the erogenous zones. As we rinsed the soap away, I said, "Can I wash your hair, love?"

I love Sam's hair. It's thick and luxurious, and I love the feel of it against my skin.

"Sure," he said. It was an unusual request, I knew, but he was game.

I picked up the bottle of shampoo and poured a small amount into my hands. Reaching up, I started to massage Sam's scalp, transferring the shampoo from my hands to his hair. Sam purred - yes, purred - in pleasure.

"Oh, J...that's wonderful."

I continued to work the shampoo into Sam's hair, relishing the sensation of his damp hair running over my fingers. Sam's eyes were closed tight - I wasn't sure if in pleasure or in fear of getting soap in his eyes. As I stroked Sam's hair with one hand, I slid the other hand - slick with shampoo - down his back to cup his ass.

Without breaking the rhythm of the hand still tangled in his hair, I inched one finger into Sam's ass. Because of the sensations emanating from his scalp, it took Sam a minute to notice where my other hand had gone.

"J...do it..." Sam sighed, and I added a second finger.

As Sam continued to purr, I continued to prepare him for my entrance. When I had him as ready as I could, I turned him into the shower spray, his back to me. Finally taking my hand off his head, I gripped Sam's hips and entered him slowly.

I reached up and set the massaging shower head on pulsate, and as the water found its rhythm, I found mine. I took Sam slowly, gently, allowing him to set the pace with his backward thrusts. As he became more and more aroused, we moved faster and faster, until we were out of sync with the water pounding down on us. As Sam started to come, he cried out and clenched his muscles around me, wringing my orgasm out of me. With the water still pouring down around us, I slid out of Sam and turned him back to face me.

I took a deep breath, but it sounded more like a sob. I clung to Sam, feeling his skin against mine.

"Oh, God, love," I said, the water from the shower mingling with the tears I hadn't known were running down my face. "I thought..."

"Shh," Sam said. "I know, I know." He held me close as the water continued to pound against us, rinsing us clean again.

Sam turned off the water, but we stayed in the tub, holding each other. After a few minutes, I noticed that Sam was shivering.

I grabbed a couple of towels off the heated bar. I handed one to Sam and wrapped the other around my waist as we stepped out of the tub.

"Cold, love?" I asked, watching Sam try to crawl into a ball and cover himself with the towel.

"Just a bit," he said in a sarcastic tone.

"It's not my fault you've got thin California blood," I said. It was an old argument, and it was both comfortable and comforting. "C'mon, love. I'll get you all warmed up, and then I'll make breakfast, OK?" I took Sam's hand and led him to the bedroom. Out of our luggage I pulled Sam's favorite sweat pants, a pair of boxers, and an old, ratty Princeton G&S "Pirates of Penzance" sweatshirt. I helped Sam put the clothing on, needing to maintain the contact between us. Once Sam was all set, I put on some clean boxers, jeans and a tee shirt, then turned to go downstairs to the kitchen.

"J?" Sam said quietly.

"Yeah," I responded, turning back to face him.

"When will we...when..."

I knew what he was asking. "It's gonna take some time, love. I hope you don't mind me hovering for a while." After he nodded, I turned headed back downstairs, Sam right on my heels. I went to the kitchen and started breakfast, letting my mind wander back over the conversation we'd just had.

What I'd told Sam was true. It _was_ going to take some time for me to assimilate the fact that we were both mortal. I'd come to the realization that _I_ was back in August, while I was recovering from being shot. But Sam...I wasn't ready quite yet to face Sam's mortality.

As if he could read my maudlin thoughts, Sam walked over to me and grasped my chin, forcing me to turn and look at him.

"Josh," he said, "I don't see your caring as a weakness. I told you before, long before I was sick, that you are the strongest man I know. You were so wonderful during my whole illness; I took my strength from you." Sam stopped talking. "Sorry, I just gotta..." he said, then leaned down and kissed me, long and deep, rubbing his groin against mine.

Sam broke the kiss, shook his head slightly, then continued as if he'd never interrupted his train of thought. "J, I can't imagine what these past couple of weeks would've been like if I didn't have you." At my look, he said, "You're crazy. I _never_ blamed you for anything. Even when you tried to tell me that if I was sick it was your fault. I love you. You're what I count on. With all the craziness in my world right now, you're the one sure thing..."

I put my arms around him. "C'mon, love," I said, wanting to lighten the atmosphere. "Let's eat, then let's find out just how well you are." I wiggled my eyebrows at him and felt him get hard against me.

"We going back to bed?" Sam asked hopefully.

"Nope," I replied with a grin. "We're going back to the beach. How often do we get a chance to avail ourselves of such a shore thing?"

Afraid to find out what his reaction to that comment was going to be, I ran from the room, once again pursued by the sound of Sam's bare feet.

"You're in trouble when I catch you, J," Sam called from behind me.

I couldn't wait.

\---END---


End file.
